Beyond
by Osravix
Summary: The tale of magic, and how it creates connections transcendent of time and space. This is the impossible, and yet, how it is attainable. This is the Beyond. (Time-Travel) (Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine)
1. Chapter 1

Harry James Potter was finally completely and unmistakably victorious, and yet he didn't feel as if he was. Shouldn't he be cheering and celebrating that the last of Voldemort's followers were defeated, like the others? He limped over the bodies of multiple unmoving Death Eaters as he reached the peak of the small hill. A flick of his wand conjured a chair, and Harry studied it, taking in the slightly misshapen legs before shrugging and surveying the battlefield as he sat down. It would hold; conjuration wasn't his strong suit anyways. Early rays of dawn revealed a few squads of Aurors and Hit-Wizards navigating around the numerous fires and craters, vanishing the remains of organic animation, and checking that every single Death Eater was dead. It was the aftermath of a battle, a battle where the Ministry had suffered minimal losses, but Harry couldn't shake the thick, leaden feeling that despite everything, it just wasn't _over_.

He internally scoffed. He didn't even know what 'it' was; he was probably just turning paranoid. Although, Harry mused, paranoia had probably saved Mad-Eye's life a couple of times. That thought sobered him. Just how many lives had been lost fighting this war?

A sigh escaped him as he stopped counting. "Too many," he mumbled. "Too many." And all over what? How much 'pure' blood someone had in them?

Swishes against the grass caused him to snap up- two pairs of footsteps, and approaching him. He flicked out his wand and raised it, only to put it down as the tired, but smiling visages of Ron and Hermione came into view.

"Too many what, mate?" Ron questioned.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing." Nothing that could be joked about, anyways.

Hermione must've seen through his lie, because she frowned. Harry sent her a pointed look telling her drop it, and surprisingly, she relented...in the form of rolling her eyes. "So. We came up here to discuss what we should do next. In life."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask me, I thought us 'boys couldn't make good life decisions for squat'." He emphasized his words with air quotes and a wry smile.

"I think I remember those words as well, Hermione." Ron nudged her in the side.

The girl huffed and slapped him away. "Whatever. Are you two staying in the DMLE?"

 _Without a doubt_ , Harry thought. "Of course! The ministry needs help weeding out the corrupt politicians!"

"Yeah, what he said," Ron agreed.

Hermione's lips quirked. "Neither of you are even officially Aurors," she pointed out.

"Well, what are you doing then," Harry shot back.

Hermione grinned. "Well, I heard that Hogwarts was offering an extra year for those that dropped out fighting Voldemort, so I'm probably doing that."

Ron hummed. "As much as I hate school, the NEWTS do help in our careers should we retire from the Corps."

There were two mock gasps. "What?" Ron glared at them.

Harry grinned at Hermione, and she grinned back. "Who are you and what have you done to Ron?" They asked in unison.

"Hey, it's not like I'm Hermione, who-" he snapped his mouth shut at the frosty look from the girl and raised his hands in surrender.

"Whipped!" Harry chortled. As they both turned to look at him, he cleared his throat. "Uh, gotta go!" He dashed out of the chair and then immediately face-planted in the dewy grass, right at his friends' feet. He had forgotten his leg injury! He groaned, spitting out a few blades of grass.

"Ah," came Ron's voice. "What was that Harry?"

There were a few nudges on his head, and Harry assumed it was Hermione telling him to get up. He turned his head, and sure enough, Hermione was there smirking, with a hand reaching down to help him up.

He took it.

Only to see a darkly robed figure limp closer behind his friends' backs, wand raised and a blindingly white spell already flying towards them. And Ron and Hermione were unaware of it.

Harry surged to his feet, ignoring the pain in his left leg, and pushed them aside, before feeling the spell hurl him into the air with the force of a hundred battering rams. As his eyes closed and he lost consciousness, he could faintly see the figure crumple under the onslaught his friends had created.

 _Guess that was the 'it' I felt, Harry thought._


	2. Chapter 2

Harry cracked open his eyes, and promptly was assaulted by the bright lights above him. He resolved to keep his eyes shut. He groaned. The pounding headache didn't help either, and he was sore all over, but mainly the chest. He rolled over onto his back with a grimace. When did he hurt his leg? And why couldn't he remember anything?

"Merlin's arse!" A voice exclaimed. "Sirius, c'mere!"

There were some shuffles before another voice spoke. "Eh? What's happened to em James?"

"Dunno, he just appeared out of nowhere, but he looks hurt and his left leg's all weird. Should we take him to St. Mungos?"

"I think your mother can fix him up." There was a snigger. "Doesn't look too serious."

Through the haze, Harry grimaced again. _Seriously?_ That had to be one of the worst puns he had ever heard. _What am I even basing that off of?_ Each time he tried to remember, the headache increased in viciousness.

"Pads, go tell her," the first voice sighed.

"Yessir!"

There was a prod on his shoulder. "Oi, can you hear me?"

Harry barely managed to mumble the affirmative.

"So, why do you look so much like me? Why are you in such oversized clothing? And it doesn't look modern either."

There was a snap, and another voice broke in. "James, don't bother him! I won't be able to diagnose the boy."

"Yes, mother."

" _Ferula._ " What felt like a splint wrapped itself around his leg. There was a series of light taps on his head and the aches lessened considerably. He was still sore though.

As if the lady had read his thoughts, she said, "There is no spell for soreness, and I don't have the potions on me for that or to fix your leg."

Harry sighed in relief nonetheless. "Thank you."

He opened his eyes, and started to sit up. He was met by the faces of three people; one lady and two boys-his headache immediately came back with a vengeance. Harry let out a grunt and fell back down.

"Prongs, it has to be you if he passed out from just looking at us. I'm not ugly like you are."

"What?! Merlin help me Sirius I will hex-"

"Boys! We shouldn't leave him like this on the floor of Madam Malkin's shop. Let's bring him back."

Harry faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

 _A young witch was shrinking away from a troll, her mahogany curls flying around her face as she retreated._

" _Hermione!" A redheaded wizard at his side shouted. Who were these two?_

" _We'll save you!" Harry heard himself yell. Why was she so close to the troll anyways? And how had the troll even gotten in-was this a_ _ **girls**_ _bathroom?! He watched the redhead levitate a bat-his name was Ron, Harry remembered._

 _Ron. Hermione. Those names felt familiar. How? And why was there such a bright light present?_

Harry jerked awake. He was laying in possibly the warmest bed he had ever been in, and the headache was completely gone. So was the wounded leg. Bright shafts of light shined through the white curtains, and Harry noticed he was in an absolutely posh room. Antique furniture was everywhere, and he felt the urge to grab his wand and blast his way out.

 _Probably not a good idea,_ he frowned. He spied his glasses and wand on the side table, and he shifted out from under the sheets. Harry put on his glasses, and was confused as he looked down at what he was wearing- oversized jumper, shirt, and pants. He would fix that.

He picked up his wand and pointed it at himself. " _Reducio._ " He repeated this on each article of clothing until they actually fit him.

No sooner had he managed this did the door barge open, giving way to two boys, both with black hair and looking around sixteen, but one had grey eyes, and a smile that told you to run. The other had hazel orbs, and his smile was kinder, but held the same mischievousness.

"Ah, the guest awakens," the grey-eyed one exclaimed. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Sirius, Sirius Black." He spoke his surname with distaste, Harry noted.

The other one rolled his eyes. "Do not make a name pun, seriously." He grinned at Sirius's expression before focusing on Harry. "I'm James Potter. Hope you slept well 'cause we're bringing you to find your family."

Harry shrugged. "Okay."

James ran a hand through his hair. "Well. Follow us, then."

Harry padded out into the hallway, noting the way everything was themed in dark red and gold. "Nice colors," he gestured at the the furniture.

"Must be a Gryff," they decided, chuckling.

They arrived at an oak door labelled 'Fleamont Potter'. James knocked, and a few moments passed before a voice called, "Come in!"

The door swung open without assistance, revealing a greying wizard lounging behind a desk. Harry followed the others in. The two boys plopped into armchairs, while Harry sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"So," he started, "What's your family name?"

Harry stared at him. "I...don't know, sir."

"Really?" The wizard raised an eyebrow. "In that case," he summoned a box. "Point your wand in here." He showed Harry the aperture.

Harry stuck his wand in it.

Fleamont tapped the box.

And then his eyebrows rose so high that James, from his spot behind Harry exclaimed, "Dad, your eyebrows are flying off!" He dissolved into a fit of giggles along with Sirius.

Fleamont paid them no heed. He rubbed his eyes and blinked before looking at the box again. His amber eyes rose to Harry's puzzled dark green.

"You're a Potter?!" The giggles behind Harry stopped.


	3. Chapter 3

"We would've seen him already then!" "Oh no, I am not sticking around with two Jameses!" Nevertheless, both still rushed to Fleamont's side.

"Whoa," James said. He looked at Harry as well. "How?"

Harry shrugged. "I honestly don't know; I don't remember anything before waking up in that shop."

Fleamont frowned. "Euphemia," he called.

Within a few moments, she strolled into the room with a puzzled expression before it melted into a smile upon seeing Harry. "Hello dear, everything feel alright?" she questioned.

Harry nodded wordlessly. Fleamont pointed her to the box and Sirius and James backed away to give her space.

Euphemia raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked. "But we're the last of the Potters, last I checked."

"The magic does not lie," Fleamont sighed. "And as head, I must take him in." He looked at Harry. "Do you really not remember anything?"

"No," Harry said. "Just waking up with a huge headache."

"Huh. In any case, welcome to the ancestral home of the Potters," Fleamont formally declared.

"So," James said. "This means Harry's a brother now?"

"Yes," Euphemia smiled. "I get three boys now!" She gathered all three into a hug, ignoring the protests.

* * *

In the hallway after Fleamont had shooed them out with the exception of his wife and Harry, citing more complicated matters, James and Sirius started walking back to James' room.

"James, he actually looks like your brother though," Sirius said, after a glance at James.

He nodded, deep in thought. "And his eyes, they're like Lily's but darker."

"Your obsession with her is showing, James. Green eyes aren't exclusive to Lily!"

James lightly shoved the offending boy. "Shut up. It's not an obsession! It just feels familiar, you know?"

Sirius nodded after the chuckling died down. "Yeah, I felt that as well, it's like I know him from somewhere, but at the same time, I know I've never seen him."

"Oh well. D'you reckon we can use him to help our pranks?"

"That is the best idea you've come up with all day!" Sirius beamed.

"It came out of my mouth, of course it's the best idea of today," James quipped. They stepped into James' room and eagerly began planning.

* * *

Fleamont sat down again and surveyed him. "Have you finished your education yet?"

Harry tilted his head, trying to remember. He winced a bit as a faint ache returned, but he said, "I'm not sure. I mean, I know how to use magic, but I don't remember learning it."

Fleamont hummed, tapping his fingers on the desk. "It seems convenient how you cannot remember anything concerning your origins, doesn't it?"

Harry frowned. Before he could reply though, Euphemia, who had been enchanting a ring in an armchair, interrupted. "Oh hush 'Monty. You've said it yourself, the magic doesn't lie. If he meant us harm, your device would've told us so."

He very maturely stuck out his tongue. "But then that raises the matter of who his parents are."

At this, Harry's vision slanted sideways as visions of floating, brightly colored orbs controlled by a smiling man with a wand appeared before his eyes. " _James. Lily. Parents."_ A voice whispered. _Lily who?_ Someone shook Harry's shoulders none too gently, jerking him back to the present. Euphemia was in front of him, hands on his shoulders and Harry could see a concerned Fleamont half-standing behind his desk. Words echoed in his head. ' _So, why do you look so much like me?'_ A revelation rocked his world. _James._

"James," he breathed. Harry looked up at a very concerned Euphemia with wide eyes. "James is my father."

"But he's only sixteen! How-" Fleamont glanced at a small top on his desk. It didn't show any sign of movement. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth before he was drowned out by Euphemia's screech. She was staring at the motionless top.

"Where has that boy been putting his wand?!" She stormed out the door before either male could stop her.

"-You're a time traveler." Fleamont concluded. "It makes sense; it's been long speculated that magic could even bend time to its will. Amnesia and headaches, if you were going back in time, were also hypothesized, as you would be remembering things that didn't happen yet."

Harry nodded in understanding, wide-eyed. "No one else can know, then. People would try to use me if word got out."

They sank into their respective chairs, pondering the breakthrough. Squeals and protests echoed from down the hall, and Fleamont broke out of his trance, chuckling. "Here comes James."

Harry smirked. "And a lot of explaining."

The door flew open, and Euphemia, ears practically steaming, pulled James in by the ear.

Harry looked pointedly at Fleamont and sat back. Catching Harry's look, he cleared his throat. "Uh, look, Euphie, let go of his ear and I'll explain," he placated her. She let go, but didn't lessen the glare at James.

"Ow, ow, ow," James groaned. He massaged his tender ear.

Fleamont looked vaguely amused. "Harry here is a time traveler. That's how James can be his father."

"Oh," Euphemia sheepishly said.

"Hold on," James interjected. "I'm his _what?_ "

"Father," Fleamont sighed.

James forgot all about his reddened ear and stared at Harry. " _That's_ why you looked so much like me!" Harry nodded. James's mouth dropped open. "Your eyes! That means…"

"Lily." Harry finished for him.

"YES!" James cheered, looking like his birthday had come early. Then he sobered, his raised hands dropping to his sides. "But she hates me!"

Harry looked utterly unaffected. "Sounds like a personal problem," he said.

"Aren't you supposed to be concerned about your existence right now?" James questioned. "If we don't get together, you'll never be born!"

"You must've done something right," Harry shrugged.

Fleamont tapped his chin, obviously in deep thought. "We'll have to get you into Hogwarts, in order to blend in. A sixteen year old that pops up out of nowhere and not in school will attract unwanted attention, not to mention the fact that you're a Potter as well."

"But a sixteen year old Potter popping out of nowhere in a school is also suspicious," Euphemia said, sitting down in her previously vacated chair. She picked up the ring and began prodding it with her wand.

"Well, we can just say we recently adopted him," James suddenly said. "His parents died and we took him in. Harry would still be a Potter, and no one would question it." The other three occupants in the room looked at him.

"That _is_ a good idea," Harry agreed. "We could also say that I came from a foreign country and that's why I just showed up."

Fleamont made eye contact with his wife, seemingly having a silent conversation, before reaching a conclusion. He took a deep breath. "Very well. I shall contact Dumbledore," he said. "And James, only speak of this on a need-to-know basis. You may tell Sirius, but only because he has already heard too much. The less people that know about Harry's origins, the better. Word will eventually reach the Ministry, and the Unspeakables will undoubtedly want to experiment."

James frowned. "I won't like lying to Peter and Remus, but," he smirked at Harry. "Anything for my son."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not even conceived yet, your son doesn't exist."

Fleamont drew out a sheet of parchment and a quill. "Quiet, both of you. I don't want to slip up and give Dumbledore any ideas."


End file.
